June 1, 2015

It was a birthday, it was a growing. And I knew it was important. Sixteen is a lifetime, one that has already happened and one that must become.

When I opened the little box left on the chair for me, I knew it was important too.

It was heavy. Heavy with the weight of a lifetime.

The ring has three diamonds. And perhaps that is the most comforting part of all. For I rest in the middle, between my mother and my father. Between lives which have already happened.

And Trinity, the three of God, the never alone. All bound in silver.

I cried. But only for a moment. The heaviness of sixteen was on me.

We drove off into the morning, finding a new life, finding a new moment. It was important. Oh, so important.

Because turning sixteen is about finding that you aren't alone. It's about the lifetime that must come soon, the one you are about to walk into. You don't walk blindly, but you walk between. Between the never alone and the coming of a new life.